<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Not Five Minutes To Spare by notaguitarfret</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341023">Not Five Minutes To Spare</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret'>notaguitarfret</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"They're all girlfriends" AU [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emetophobia, F/F, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Transphobia, a lot of discussion of sexual assault just beware, also trans/gay panic mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:28:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica knew that Ms Fleming's idiocy would end up being a train wreck. They all did.</p>
<p>But Veronica couldn't have expected this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heather Chandler/Heather Duke, Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"They're all girlfriends" AU [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dodging a Bullet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p><em> It’s day one of Ms Fleming’s soon-to-be trainwreck week. No one is looking forward to it, </em> especially <em> not Heather. Which is very understandable. This is like if Ms Fleming had pulled me over in Freshman year and asked me to make a big speech about the dangers of self harm whilst having a short sleeved shirt on. But I digress. </em></p><p>
  <em> I haven’t seen Heather yet. Hopefully I will soon, but I also wish she’d just stay home… but it probably wouldn’t look very good for her. </em>
</p><p>Veronica closed her diary and sighed, leaning back against the lockers.</p><p>“At least we get to miss some classes, I suppose,” Betty said next to her.</p><p>“Would classes be much better than this, though?” Martha asked. “I feel like this week is going to be long and painful.”</p><p>“True.” Betty groaned, the back of her head smacking against the lockers. “It’s not like they’ll actually be trying to tackle the subject. They just wanna look good.”</p><p>“Pretty sure we’re making posters instead of an actual history lesson today,” JD added.</p><p>“Jesus. How do you make a <em> poster </em> for rape awareness?” Betty dragged her hands over her face. “That’s ridiculous.”</p><p>“I dunno. Give it flashy colours and make a tasteless pun, probably,” Veronica said.</p><p>“Yeah, they’ll tell us to make posters and go over a few statistics they skimmed over, then not bother to touch on the issues in depth,” Betty ranted. “Like they’ll want to touch on other related issues that can contribute to sexual harassment and rape, you know, like racism, sexuality and being trans. But you know, that would take some actual effort, and actually asking a marginalized person about it. Granted, I don’t think JD and I have gone through any form of sexual harassment, so they may have to look for other trans people to talk to.”</p><p>“I doubt they even know those issues exist, Betty,” Veronica sighed. “This is going to be a surface level understanding of sexual assault. Literally just a, ‘rape is bad, don’t do it,’ for a week, and then never address the <em> actual </em> causes behind it.”</p><p>“Yeah, that would mean addressing that they never punish guys for sexually harassing women,” Betty said.</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>Cutting their conversation short was the sound of loud heels clicking against the school floor further down the corridor. Already knowing who it would be, Veronica looked up to see Chandler making her way towards the group. Veronica shoved her diary into her bag and pushed herself off the lockers.</p><p>“Oh no, I’ve avoided her for this long,” Betty said. “Veronica, you could have told me she’d be around.”</p><p>“You think she’s still mad at you for…” Martha cringed.</p><p>“Oh, she is,” Veronica said. “But I won’t let her do anything.”</p><p>Betty grimaced when Chandler stopped just behind Veronica, averting her gaze. It was one of the few times Veronica had ever seen Betty somewhat intimidated by any of the Heathers, but in fairness, Betty was in fact in the wrong.</p><p>“Hi, sweetie,” Veronica greeted her with a smile. Her gaze was dull, but at least a little life returned to them as she spoke.</p><p>“I’m stealing you,” she said dryly, grabbing her arm.</p><p>“I figured.” Veronica smiled at her friends sheepishly. “Uh… talk later.”</p><p>The group all waved goodbye as she was dragged off, and as she was, she noticed that JD’s eyes wouldn’t leave Chandler. He was usually very unreadable, but this time he seemed… troubled? Perhaps she was seeing things.</p><p>“Today not killing Betty day?” Veronica asked.</p><p>“I heard what you were talking about,” she murmured. “And I have to admit, I agree with her, so I’ll let her be. For now.”</p><p>“Ah.” Soon enough they were in a quieter area of the school, and so they slowed their unusually quick pace. Though there was no one around, they still kept their voices low as they spoke. “Are you feeling okay?”</p><p>Chandler shrugged. “I still haven’t written this stupid speech for Wednesday.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I kept trying to last night, and I got no further than the dictionary definition of rape. And even <em> that </em> was hard to write.”</p><p>Veronica frowned. “If you need me to take your place, I will.”</p><p>“Heather already tried that. Fleming is far too adamant with keeping me is the vocal one.” She sighed and leaned against a wall. “I think she’s convinced she’s using my power over the school for good or some shit.”</p><p>“...Maybe.”</p><p>Heather let out a groan. “Okay, but… I’m <em> supposed </em> to be writing about my own experiences for this, but clearly that’s getting me nowhere because every time I’ve tried, suddenly an hour has passed and I realise I was dissociating the whole time. So clearly I need another approach… can I just write about whatever the fuck Betty was saying?”</p><p>Veronica raised her eyebrows. “That… would actually be a very good idea.”</p><p>“It would?”</p><p>“If you talk about issues that have nothing to do with you, because I mean, other than liking girls, you’re pretty privileged and therefore none of those issues apply to <em> you. </em> So not only do you avoid talking about yourself and making it much more difficult, you also bring awareness to lesser known issues in this field that no other school would.” She gasped, grabbing Heather by the shoulders. “Heather! You’re a genius.”</p><p>Heather’s eyes seemed to brighten, and she smiled.</p><p>“I know I am,” she said. “See, I can handle this week, I don’t know what I was getting so worked up about.” She rolled her eyes. “Though, question - what’s a trans person?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“One of the types of people Betty mentioned. She said she and JD were one of them.” She tilted her head. “I kinda need this speech to be long enough so I don’t have to fill it in with my own experiences, so I need to write as much as possible.”</p><p>“<em> Oh. </em>” Veronica winced. “Oh, right, you were… listening to that.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I don’t think either of them want you knowing about that.”</p><p>Heather raised a brow. “I’m not going to mention them by name. Just talk about… um, whatever it is.”</p><p>“Right. A transgender person is someone who was assigned a different gender at birth,” Veronica explained quietly. “So, if someone was born a guy, for example, they’ll decide they’d be much more comfortable living as a girl later in life.”</p><p>“And… Betty and JD are transgender?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I never even knew.”</p><p>“That’s the whole point, Heather,” she told her sternly. “Betty is a girl, JD’s a guy, and that’s that. Never bring up the fact that they were assigned something else at birth, okay? That would be incredibly rude.”</p><p>“Okay! Okay, geez, I wasn’t going to.” She held her hands up in defense. “I was just surprised.”</p><p>“Don’t be surprised that a woman looks like a woman, Heather.”</p><p>Heather decided it would be easier to keep her mouth shut. Veronica sighed.</p><p>“Look, I am only telling you this because - one - I don’t want you doing anything offensive around Betty or JD. And two, if you want to make a speech about these issues, you need to know these simple things.”</p><p>“Right.” Chandler slowly nodded. “...Can you help me with it?”</p><p>Veronica gave her a smile. “Of course I can.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still day one, only now it’s lunch period. And… uh… I am in awe of Ms Fleming’s choices so far. </em>
</p><p>While walking towards the cafeteria, Veronica and the Heathers had all stopped to really take in some jackass’ incredibly poor decisions.</p><p>“You! We’ll see you at the pep rally on Friday, right?” Ram called after someone, waving a pamphlet around in the air.</p><p>“It’s for charity!” Kurt added, before someone came up to him and took a pamphlet out of his hands.</p><p>The Heathers kept their distance, staring at the scene in front of them, utterly dumbfounded.</p><p>“Who’s… idea was that,” Duke said, staring at the pair of them with disgust.</p><p>“Someone who isn’t very self aware,” Mara replied.</p><p>Veronica frowned, glancing at Chandler. She didn’t look <em> upset </em>, really, she just looked… incredibly done. She watched as she took a long, deep breath, then breathed out.</p><p>“Who’s going to tell them,” she groaned into her fists.</p><p>Before any of them could reply, it seems Kurt and Ram both noticed the Heathers’ presence, and hurried over to them.</p><p>“Ah! Our favourite ladies,” Kurt exclaimed, stopping in front of them. “You’re all gonna be coming to the pep rally this Friday, right?”</p><p>He tried to hold out a pamphlet towards Chandler, only to have his hand slapped away.</p><p>“We’re busy,” she hissed. Kurt frowned.</p><p>“Aw, what? You <em> always </em> come to pep rallies! Besides, aren’t you taking part in this week? You’re meant to be playing a big role, right?”</p><p>Chandler visibly flinched, and so Veronica stepped forward.</p><p>“Exactly, we’re busy with this week, and therefore we’d rather spend Friday taking a damn break. We’re not going.” She pushed him backwards, and he immediately began to sulk.</p><p>“Aww… we were hoping two of you - or maybe more - would wanna be our dates to the pep rally?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ram stopped at his side and grinned.</p><p>“Yeah! Trust us, we’d give you a good time. Besides-”</p><p>This asshole had the fucking <em> balls </em> to slither over to Chandler and hook an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Veronica felt her blood begin to boil, especially when she saw the tense expression that had appeared on her girlfriend’s face.</p><p>“-We kinda have unfinished business, do we not?” he said in a failed attempt to sound smooth. Chandler looked enraged, but by how her hands were clenched into fists and her shoulders were tensed up, Veronica knew she was frozen in place. She was about to step forward, when she heard Kurt speak up next to her.</p><p>“Yeah! Come on, baby, how about you give me another chance?” He stepped towards Mara, who immediately pushed him away, causing him to stumble backwards, then hurried over and grabbed Chandler’s hand to yank her out of Ram’s hold.</p><p>“See, none of you can take ‘no’ for an answer!” Mara growled in frustration, before walking away, not letting go of Chandler’s hand until they were out of sight. Temporarily left alone with the two boys, both Veronica and Duke slowly turned towards them both, seeing that they stood there, rejected and awkward. They too turned to them both, their smiles crawling back onto their mouths.</p><p>“Would either of you-”</p><p>“<em> No! </em>” Veronica and Duke barked simultaneously, before grabbing each other’s hands and marching off, not stopping until they turned the corner and saw Chandler and Mac waiting for them. Chandler, however, was too busy groaning out her frustration into her hand to notice they had arrived.</p><p>“The irony is fucking killing me,” she snarled. “It’s not even <em> funny, </em> it’s just… just…”</p><p>“Infuriating?” Mara guessed.</p><p>“I’m thinking of a much more ugly word, but it isn’t coming to me, so that’ll do for the time being,” she grumbled, before looking up at Duke and Veronica. “Can either of you <em> believe </em> this?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes,” Veronica said. “I can.”</p><p>Chandler inhaled deeply, when her attention was again grabbed by the sound of Kurt and Ram’s voices around the corner. By the sounds of it, they’d returned right back to raising awareness for their little charity event, without a <em> hint </em> of awareness towards their own damn selves. Letting out a long-winded sigh, she turned around and continued to walk away from them, all confidence that had radiated from her before having dispersed. It seems she wasn’t the only one who noticed, as she, Mara and Duke all exchanged a concerned look with one another, before hurrying forward to walk by her side.</p><p>“Well, at least we know it can’t get much worse,” Mara tried to suggest, but Chandler’s eyes looked more dull than ever. She frowned, and looked at Veronica and Duke for help.</p><p>“How about we just relax over lunch?” Veronica suggested, touching her arm gently. “Just forget about all of this for a little bit.”</p><p>Chandler did look at her, but her gaze only darkened.</p><p>“I need to do lunchtime poll.”</p><p>Veronica’s smile dropped.</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>“No you don’t,” Duke spoke up. Chandler arched a brow at her.</p><p>“Yes I do?”</p><p>“You already agreed to let me help with it - just let me do the whole thing.”</p><p>Chandler’s gaze softened a little.</p><p>“You don’t need to-”</p><p>“No, <em> you </em> can sit back and do whatever while I get it over and done with. You won’t even have to to know the question.” Duke told her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I better go find Peter. He’ll likely be in the cafeteria at his little charity table, knowing him.”</p><p>With that, Duke’s pace sped up and she was way ahead of them in no time, with Chandler staring after her with an incredibly fond look in her gaze. Veronica elbowed her lightly.</p><p>“You’re making it obvious again.”</p><p>“She’s not here, so why does it matter?” She shrugged. Mara let out a hum.</p><p>“I still think you should take a chance, you know.”</p><p>“I still think that’s a terrible idea,” Chandler retorted. It seems changing the topic was enough for her to find her usual radiance again, though.</p><p>“Remember when I said that about me?” Veronica said, as riling her up seemed to be a pretty good distraction.</p><p>“I already told you, with you it was <em> different, </em>” Chandler snapped. Veronica sighed.</p><p>“I know, I know.”</p><p>“We just wish it could happen,” Mara mused.</p><p>“You think I don’t too?” Chandler rolled her eyes, before pushing the cafeteria doors open and easily slicing through the crowd with little more than a glare. Veronica and Mara followed close behind, with Veronica having a good height advantage to look around the cafeteria. Surprise surprise, Duke had been right, in that Peter did indeed set up a charity table, as he so often did, and just like Kurt and Ram, the charity related to the unfortunate theme of this week. Unlike Kurt and Ram, though, Peter was actually nice, and was quite possibly the only guy to have ever dated Heather Chandler <em> without </em> having, or even asking for sex. So, whatever. His little stand could stay.</p><p>Veronica was then pulled out her thoughts by Chandler tugging her by the arm so she could whisper to her.</p><p>“I don’t want anyone thinking there’s an actual reason why I’m not doing lunchtime poll,” she muttered. “So could we just start working on the speech now instead?”</p><p>“Of course we can. You have anything to write with?”</p><p>“Maybe.” She rummaged around through the inner pockets of her blazer, eventually pulling out a blunt pencil and a pocket notebook. “Eh. This’ll do.”</p><p>After grabbing their lunches, the trio sat down at their table, with Veronica and Chandler busying themselves with making very brief notes.</p><p>“Wait, so you don’t have to write about you for this speech?” Mara asked, leaning over the table.</p><p>“Fleming <em> wants </em> me to write about me - probably so she can strip all my power and let everyone know that I, Heather Chandler, too have trauma, just like everyone else.” She snorted in disgust. “But she didn’t say I <em> had </em> to, and now that I actually have enough to talk about for five minutes or so, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She glanced at her notes and began to chew on her pencil, leaving clear dents every time she bit down. “So not only do I not have to make myself miserable by writing about me, but I also get political correctness points.” She shrugged. Veronica raised a brow.</p><p>“Heather, I completely understand <em> why </em> you want to detach yourself from everything happening this week, but you do at least <em> vaguely </em> care about these issues, don’t you?”</p><p>“I never said I didn’t.” She didn’t look up from her notes. “But they’re not <em> my </em> issues. I can’t get upset about them on a personal level, just an empathetic one.”</p><p>“Now this is a rare sighting. Heather Chandler, acknowledging she has <em> privilege? </em>” Veronica snickered. Heather rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I have never claimed to <em> not </em> have privilege, Sawyer.”</p><p>“No, but you do use it to your advantage a lot.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t you do the same?”</p><p>“Oh! I do the same!” Mara chipped in with a raised hand. “Granted I am not straight or white or male, just wealthy.”</p><p>Heather raised a brow. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner.” She leaned towards Mara. “Mac, you’re a woman of colour, can you help me with this?”</p><p>Mara grimaced at her notepad. “I don’t know if I have any useful experiences, Heather. You might have to ask someone else.”</p><p>Chandler’s head fell into her outstretched arms and she groaned. “This is hopeless,” she grumbled. “I can’t just go round asking people if they’ve had shitty sexual assault experiences based on whatever marginalised group they’re apart of, that would be weird! And I am <em> not </em> pulling a Ms Fleming on anyone.” She lifted her head up. “I have done many awful things to these students, but that’s the line I refuse to cross.”</p><p>“I’m sure they’re very thankful,” Veronica scoffed. “But seriously, Heather, you don’t have to get anyone’s first hand experiences on these things.”</p><p>“First hand experiences on what?” The sudden sound of Duke’s voice coming up behind them made Veronica flinch in surprise. Duke placed her clipboard (face-down) on the table and sat next to Mara, who gave her a welcoming hug.</p><p>“Sexual assault. What d’you think?” Chandler muttered. “Particularly with marginalised groups.”</p><p>“...Why marginalised groups?”</p><p>“Because then I can at least raise some sort of <em> useful </em> awareness in this disaster of a week, and also avoid talking about me, because I’m not marginalised. At least, as far as everyone is concerned.”</p><p>“That’s a good idea in theory, but Heather, what the hell do you know about marginalised groups?”</p><p>“That’s kinda what we’re stuck on,” Veronica said. “I know that technically <em> we’re </em> all marginalised, but we haven’t known that for very long. But it’s fine!” She placed a hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “I’m sure I can do at least a bit of research over the next couple of days.”</p><p>“What if it’s not enough?” Chandler fretted, chewing on her pencil. “If it’s under five minutes, Fleming will want me to write about my own experiences to fill the time.”</p><p>The group fell silent, collectively wondering what they could say to soothe her nerves, that is until Veronica noticed Duke was shifting uncomfortably in her seat, nipping at her lip as though she wanted to say something, but something was holding her back. Eventually, she finally spoke up.</p><p>“Give me that.”</p><p>Chandler looked up at her in confusion.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Duke avoided her gaze, instead looking at her notepad.</p><p>“Hand it over.”</p><p>Puzzled, Chandler obeyed, sliding both the notebook and pencil to her. Granted, upon seeing the chewed end of the pencil, Duke grabbed her own pen she had used for lunchtime poll and began to write. None of them knew what exactly she was doing, at least not at first. Soon enough, though, it clicked in Veronica’s brain.</p><p>
  <em> Is she…? </em>
</p><p>“There.” She stopped writing, clicked her pen three times (for some reason) and pushed the notes back over to Chandler.</p><p>“What did you-”</p><p>“Some starting notes. You could probably stretch it out to like three minutes if you purposely stutter.”</p><p>Chandler picked up the notepad and began to read, with Veronica hovering over her shoulder to see if her suspicions were correct.</p><p>Which, they were.</p><p>“How do you know so much about trans issues?” Chandler asked. “I didn’t even know about trans people until earlier today.” She read over some notes at the bottom. “Also, what’s an asexual?”</p><p>“I wrote you a definition on the next page,” Duke said, easily distracting her from the first question. Veronica stole a glimpse from her, and while she seemed tense, she also looked content. When she caught her gaze, Duke just gave her a half-hearted smile, assuring her that everything was fine. Veronica was just going to have to trust her on that.</p><p>“Oh, you did,” Chandler said. “That should be quite a bit of material, actually. Heather, you’ve saved my ass.”</p><p>“Glad I could help.” She let out a light chuckle, and in that brief moment, Veronica was sure she saw a glint of fondness in Duke’s green eyes as they lingered on her for just a few seconds longer than they usually would have.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Day one was a mess. I was forced to make a poster about fucking sexual assault with some pastel highlighters. I purposely made it bad so they wouldn’t put it up on the wall. Believe it or not, I’d rather do my math lesson than be involved in this in any way. I dread to think how day two is gonna turn out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slightly better news, I was able to help Heather out with her speech. I didn’t really know where exactly to start looking in my house, but it turns out Betty knew some documentaries I could watch. No, I didn’t tell her what exactly I needed them for - luckily she didn’t pry. Also, those documentaries were really fucking sad, why are men such trash? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, actually, note to self: bring up that men can be victims too. I doubt the school has touched on that at all. </em>
</p><p>Veronica glanced up from her diary and over to the clock.</p><p>Past midnight.</p><p><em> No kidding, </em> she thought, yawning. Her eyes were heavy and she knew she would definitely have to turn the lights off soon, but she couldn’t bring herself to hang up on Heather just yet.</p><p>“How’s it going so far?” she asked. She got no response. No, Heather wasn’t asleep. She’d been doing this all night - getting no reply meant that Heather was busy writing something. It wasn’t that she was ignoring her purposely, it was the fact that it was as though she literally couldn’t hear Veronica talk when she was occupied with writing something down.</p><p>“Hm?” she eventually got a reply. The same reply she had gotten every time she had to wait thirty seconds or so to hear a response. So - correction - she <em> could </em> hear Veronica, but there was a very long delay in her brain when it came to actually processing the words.</p><p>“I was just asking how it was going.”</p><p>“Didn’t you ask me that like five minutes ago?’</p><p>“Yeah. I’m just making sure it’s all going smoothly,” she said with a shrug. “Need help with anything?”</p><p>“No, it’s going fine,” Heather murmured. She sounded a little weak.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>Heather hesitated.</p><p>“I’m okay,” she soon replied. “I was just writing about sex workers.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re putting that in?”</p><p>“Yeah, I have room for it.” Another long pause. “It’s just a bit hard to write.”</p><p>“Difficult topic?’</p><p>“No,” Heather said. “I’m just… writing about how men feel… entitled to them… and...”</p><p>Veronica couldn’t tell if she was just exhausted or if her brain was actually functioning slower than usual, with how drawn out her words were.</p><p>“Heather?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>She could hear some shuffling of paper on the other end before she got her response.</p><p>“I’m just tired.” A pause. “What are you doing right now?”</p><p>Veronica raised a brow curiously. “I was just writing in my diary.”</p><p>“Writing what?”</p><p>“About today,” she said with a chuckle. “You know, what I would usually write in it.”</p><p>“Are you wearing that stupid monocle?”</p><p>Veronica snickered. “How’d you guess?”</p><p>“Because I can picture you sitting at your desk with your hair clipped back and nothing but your desk lamp on, with that dumb monocle hanging off your face.”</p><p>“Actually, I’m on my bed so I can hold the phone,” Veronica corrected her. “You’re right about one lamp being on though, it’s why I’m wearing my monocle. I can hardly read in this light.”</p><p>“I can hardly read.”</p><p>Veronica laughed. “I disagree, I think you’re pretty good at reading.”</p><p>“I’m dyslexic. The main symptom is that I’m <em> not </em> good at reading.”</p><p>“Sure, but you’ve read some pretty difficult books,” she said. “Didn’t you say you read IT when you were like fifteen?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That’s very impressive.” Suddenly sucked into a conversation, Veronica closed her diary and placed it on her nightstand so she could rest her head on her pillow and focus on Heather. Oh, and she took her monocle off, of course.</p><p>“I’ll gladly take the compliment,” Heather said. “I suppose I have always been a bit ahead of one’s average reading skills.”</p><p>“You must have had a good teacher,” Veronica commented.</p><p>“That teacher was me,” Heather said. “And also Heather,” she timidly added.</p><p>“Duke?”</p><p>“Who do you think? I’m pretty sure Mac doesn’t even <em> own </em> a book. You know, other than non-fictional stuff.”</p><p>“Is there a reason she doesn’t like reading?”</p><p>“It’s not good for her attention span,” Heather explained.</p><p>“Ah.” Veronica yawned again, not realising her mouth was close enough to the phone that Heather could pick up on it.</p><p>“You’re tired,” she said flatly.</p><p>“Mhmm? It is past midnight.”</p><p>“Are you going to sleep yet?” She sounded a little disappointed. Giving a thoughtful hum, Veronica glanced at the time again.</p><p>It was only 12:30. That was actually earlier than her usual bedtime that ranged from 1am to 3:45am. Sure, she was a little more tired than usual, and she’d often take advantage of her body deciding that it was time for an early night so she could catch up on the many hours she’d lost over the years.</p><p>But… just for tonight…</p><p>“I don’t have to yet.” She rubbed her eyes so they would stay open. “Unless you are.”</p><p>“Not yet, no.”</p><p>“Are you still working on your speech?”</p><p>“No,” she quickly replied. “I… I feel like I should though.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“Because it’s almost finished.” She paused. “It’s just… getting difficult to write, I suppose.”</p><p>Veronica gave a huff of amusement. “Heather, if it’s almost finished, then you can absolutely take a break and just finish it tomorrow, no problem.”</p><p>“Veronica, I need to memorise it. I was going to use tomorrow to do that.”</p><p>“Are you not allowed to take the script up with you?”</p><p>“No, I <em> am, </em> it’s just… I can’t read things very well without memorising them.”</p><p>“Oh…” Veronica slowly nodded. “What about lunchtime poll?”</p><p>“I read over it again and again before actually saying it,” she explained. “I’m not actually reading it when I ask people the question.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that.”</p><p>“Well, there’s a fun little fact about me.”</p><p>“I appreciate knowing,” Veronica said.</p><p>“Why? It’s not actually that interesting.”</p><p>“I like knowing things about you, Heather,” she murmured. “Even if they’re just small insignificant things - I would have never imagined knowing this much when I first met you. It makes you seem a lot more…”</p><p>“Human?”</p><p>Veronica wasn’t sure if she was meant to smile or not. “Yeah. Human.” She flipped onto her side, her ear pressing against her phone. “I’m not sure why you don’t like people seeing you as human.”</p><p>A long pause, and for a moment, Veronica became anxious that she’d said something offensive.</p><p>“When was the last time you saw someone worship a human?” she said quietly. “Perfection is always superior.”</p><p>“Are you calling yourself God?”</p><p>“No, but I’m calling myself an idealised version of a teenage girl.” She let out a ‘tch’. “And very similarly to God, I’m not actually real, because even if God was real, would he really be what everyone says he is?”</p><p>“Depends what religion you’re asking.”</p><p>“Even then, I’d have to pick a denomination.”</p><p>Veronica chuckled. “So, you <em> are </em> comparing yourself to God, essentially?”</p><p>“No, I just mean- you know what, sure. I’m a Goddess, motherfucker.”</p><p>“A Greek Goddess, perhaps?” Veronica suggested. “So very powerful, yet still flawed.”</p><p>“I don’t know anything about Greek Mythology, ‘Ronica.”</p><p>“Can I still say you’re a lot like the Greek Goddess Aphrodite? “</p><p>“I’ll look up what the fuck that means some other time.”</p><p>“So if you weren’t a Greek Goddess kid, what type of kid were you?” Veronica asked.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You know how Mara was a dinosaur and space kid, and I had a brief Greek Mythology phase, what type of kid were you?”</p><p>There was some hesitance on Heather’s end.</p><p>“...Insects,” she finally mumbled. Veronica couldn’t help but snort in amusement, only to be scolded with, “Hey!”</p><p>“I’m not laughing!” Veronica assured her. “I’m just surprised.”</p><p>Heather groaned into the phone. “I was a very messy child. My parents didn’t like it.” She heard her shuffling a little, and when she next spoke, her voice was closer to the phone. Veronica assumed she was in a similar position on her bed to her. “I’d always go outside and find rocks to lift up. I… liked looking at the worms and ants underneath it. There were a few times I’d come in the house holding a snail in my hand, or a caterpillar, or some other creepy crawly stuck to my dress without me even knowing it was there.” She heard her chuckle fondly, likely at some sort of memory. “I used to feel awful whenever my mom would scream and run out of the room, but now I look back, and it’s oh-so-satisfying.”</p><p>Veronica laughed as she listened, in some sort of amazement that Heather would tell her such a thing.</p><p>“What’s your favourite insect?” she asked. It took Heather a moment to reply, and Veronica realised that was because Heather was yawning.</p><p>“Um… uh… millipede.”</p><p>“Really?” Veronica raised a brow. “I would have guessed butterfly.”</p><p>“They’re nice, but millipedes have loads of legs. It’s pretty cool.”</p><p>“A thousand?”</p><p>“Mmm, no, the name is misleading. It can be over a hundred though.”</p><p>“You don’t find that freaky?”</p><p>“No. I-” She was interrupted by another yawn. “I would if they were long. I have arachnophobia. But they’re short, so I’d gladly hold one.” A tired sigh escaped her lips. “Oh, praying mantises are cool too. I saw one at a zoo once.”</p><p>“You like big insects, don’t you?”</p><p>“Mhmm.” Veronica could tell in her voice that she was drifting off a little. “They’re cool.”</p><p>“What’s your favourite <em> small </em> insect, then?”</p><p>“Hmmm…” Her voice was getting quieter and a little more raspy. “Fireflies. Also bees.”</p><p>“Do you like honey?”</p><p>Heather gave a tired chuckle. “Yeah. There’s a reason I call Mac ‘hun’.”</p><p>“Her hair is golden like honey, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“She also reminds me of a firefly. Always glowing, even in the night.” Veronica smiled to herself. “Especially in the night.”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>“What insect would I be?” Veronica then asked. “If you say stick insect, I’ll kill you.”</p><p>No response.</p><p>“Heather?”</p><p>Still nothing. Nothing but heavy breathing on the end, with the very faint occasional snore. Veronica giggled.</p><p>“Goodnight, Heather,” she whispered into the phone. “I love you.”</p><p>At exactly 1am, Veronica hung up.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Day two has been… interesting so far, let’s say. </em>
</p><p>Veronica watched as students balanced on their little ladders to stick the large posters up on the walls of the cafeteria. They accompanied the added decorations like an eyesore, but not for clashing colour reasons.</p><p>
  <em> Talk about performative. </em>
</p><p>Closing her diary, though not yet putting it away, in case the school wanted to pull any more stunts, she turned her attention to the coffee machine that had now been freed up by JD, who seemed incredibly focused on the watery coffee in his cup. Tucking her diary under her arm and grabbing a cup, she spoke up after an incredibly long silence they had both shared.</p><p>“So what’s up?” she asked.</p><p>“Huh?” JD’s head jerked up to look at her.</p><p>“You’re quiet. More than usual.”</p><p>JD stared at her blankly.</p><p>“Shifts at 7/11 are long,” he simply replied.</p><p>“Oh yeah, you actually got a job there, huh?” She chuckled, taking her readily made coffee from the machine. “How’s that working out for you?”</p><p>“It’s alright,” he said. Then said nothing more. Veronica frowned, following him to wherever he was walking next. They had to duck out of the way of the banners being hung up just above the cafeteria door, still not completely put up. The continued to walk down the corridor in silence, until-</p><p>“How’s Heather?”</p><p>Veronica’s attention piqued.</p><p>“Heather?” she asked. “You mean… McNamara?”</p><p>“No,” he said. “How’s Heather Chandler?”</p><p>Veronica couldn’t bring herself to answer the question. Not because Heather <em> wasn’t </em> fine - though, her current state was very debatable, with how she’d chosen to be left alone so she could memorise her whole speech, and seemed incredibly distant all morning - but purely because she was in pure shock that JD had asked such a simple question.</p><p>“There’s something wrong with you.” Veronica held out a hand in front of him, causing him to stop (and nearly tip his coffee over).</p><p>“What makes you say that?” he asked. “I just asked how she was.”</p><p>“Yeah? Why the hell would you do that?”</p><p>He shrugged. “I’m curious.”</p><p>Veronica eyed him suspiciously.</p><p>“She’s… fine.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Where did this all come from?”</p><p>JD shrugged again. “Can I not ask about your relationships?” His gaze dropped to the floor. “And get an honest response?”</p><p>Veronica’s nose scrunched up.</p><p>“She’s a bit stressed.” <em> That’s one way to put it. </em> “She has a big speech tomorrow. Well, it’s five minutes, but it’s going to be in front of quite a few people, considering it’ll be in the cafeteria.”</p><p>Something in JD’s usual deadpan expression cracked. Now, Veronica could see a hint of… worry?</p><p>“What?” she asked, a little on edge.</p><p>“In front of ‘a few people’?” he echoed. “Does she know what’s happening tomorrow?”</p><p>“Um… yeah? No? Am I missing something?”</p><p>JD stared at her dead in the eye. “Veronica, they’re bringing in a TV crew tomorrow. You know, with cameras and all?”</p><p>Veronica felt her heart drop into a bottomless pit.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Heather’s… going to be on TV.” He visibly swallowed. “Didn’t she tell you? Doesn’t she know?”</p><p>Veronica‘s head began to race, and for a few moments, she didn’t respond.</p><p>“I need to find Heather,” she murmured, before racing off down the corridor. “I’m sorry, JD! I’ll catch up later, I’ll-”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, just go,” she heard him call back to her. She gave him a thankful smile before turning the corner, and soon enough she arrived in the cramped space of the student lounge, where notes and posters were all displayed across the tables and pens scattered around pen holders.</p><p>“Veronica!” She was greeted with the friendly smile of Peter. “Haven’t seen you come here in awhile. How are you-?”</p><p>“Sorry, Peter, I’m kinda in a rush,” she said apologetically. “Is Heather here?”</p><p>“Hi.” She turned towards the sound of Heather’s voice in the one corner of the room she hadn’t got a chance to look at. She was sitting across a chair (as in, <em> sideways, </em> with one heel resting on the chair next to her) with a relaxed expression. “You’re dripping coffee onto the floor.”</p><p>Veronica looked down at her hands. Indeed they were covered in coffee that had spilled over the cup while she’d been running, and they were in fact dripping, but at least the coffee machine had done a poor job at heating up the water, so it didn’t burn.</p><p>“Sorry,” she mumbled, immediately searching for a place to wipe her hands.</p><p>“That’s okay, I’ll grab you a napkin,” Peter said, hurrying over to a shelf and pulling out a few napkins for her. She sighed with relief when she grabbed hold of them.</p><p>“Thanks.” She wiped her hands and her cup, tossed the crumpled up napkins in the trash and went and sat down next to Heather (after she moved her leg).</p><p>“You look a little troubled,” Heather said. “What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”</p><p>“Heather, did you know that a TV network was coming here tomorrow?”</p><p>Any tranquility that had been present on Heather’s expression completely vanished.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“A camera crew is coming over tomorrow,” she said sheepishly. “I… assume they’ll be in the crowd that you give your speech to.”</p><p>Heather’s shoulders slumped, panic evident in her gaze.</p><p>“Peter?” she barked suddenly. “Is there really a camera crew coming tomorrow?”</p><p>Peter glanced up from a poster he was focused on. “Oh, yeah, that’s happening.”</p><p>“And you didn’t think to tell me… <em> why? </em>"</p><p>“Didn’t you know?” He gave her a concerned look. “I thought Ms Fleming would have told you.”</p><p>“No?” She turned back to Veronica. “Are you sure they’ll be recording <em> me? </em>”</p><p>“I’m not <em> positive, </em> but it would make sense that Fleming would schedule you both on the same day… for that reason.”</p><p>“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” She spun around in her chair and let her head sink into her hands. Veronica gave her a look of sympathy, placing a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Heather, you don’t have to do this.”</p><p>“Yes I do.”</p><p>“You can call in sick.”</p><p>Heather let out a long-winded sigh, before letting her hands drop onto the table.</p><p>“No… No, it’s fine.” She gathered up the flashcards that were splayed out all over the desk. “I’ve already finished the speech, and I’ve memorised half of it. It’s going fine so far.” She stared blankly at the cards as she flicked through them. “No point in backing out now.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Veronica tilted her head. “I don’t want you to take on more than you can chew.”</p><p>Heather looked back at her with a raised brow.</p><p>“I can digest this just fine, ‘Ronica,” she told her sternly. “I’ll just need to prepare myself a little more than originally planned.” She growled to herself. “Because it would have been <em> lovely </em> to know I was gonna be on TV!” she exclaimed a little louder.</p><p>“I would have told you if I knew you didn’t know, I swear!” Peter said from across the room.</p><p>“It’s <em> fine, </em>” she groaned, leaning back on her chair. “I’ll just have to perfect the hell out of this speech by tomorrow.” She turned back to Veronica. “As much as I enjoy your company, you’re gonna have to leave me be so I can make it through this speech without stuttering.”</p><p>Veronica gave her a nod. “You’ll do great.” One glance at Peter - he was turned away, focusing on his own work, giving her the opportunity to steal a swift kiss on her cheek before standing up. At the very least, Heather smiled at that.</p><p>“I know I will. Now scram.”</p><p>Veronica gave her one last smile, before leaving her alone to do her work.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Day three. This is it, the worst day. We just need to get through this, and then it’ll basically be over and done with. Well, the week won’t, but honestly, it should all die down by today. </em>
</p><p>Shoving her diary into her bag, Veronica stepped through the cafeteria doors, and as soon as they opened, she was met with a bustling crowd and the overwhelming sound of a hundred conversations happening at once. Sliding her sunglasses off probably wasn’t the best idea, what with the headache she’d had all morning ever since she woke up from a three hour sleep from last night, but she <em> had </em> to get a closer look at the chaos happening before her.</p><p>Over the many students’ heads, she could see Ms Fleming at the centre of it all. She couldn’t see what exactly she was doing, but in looking at how several students were holding some sort of flyer, she could guess she was currently handing more of those out.</p><p>“Veronica.”</p><p>Somehow she was able to pick up on her name being called in the midst of this noise. She looked to her side and saw Betty peeking out of the crowd, gesturing for her to follow. Veronica did so, and was led to the outskirts of the crowd, near the wall and right next to the daunting sight of a TV camera.</p><p>“Isn’t this ridiculous?” Veronica grumbled once she was close enough for Betty to hear her.</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Betty muttered, stopping next to JD and Martha, who were both waiting for them. “Okay, I’m back.”</p><p>“Hi, Veronica,” Martha said with a wave. Veronica waved back.</p><p>“Hey,” JD said dryly.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>Veronica came to stand next to Betty, who immediately asked her,</p><p>“Were those documentaries I recommended any good for your research?”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, they were really handy, thanks,” Veronica said.</p><p>“What did you need them for, exactly?”</p><p>Veronica was about to steer their conversation elsewhere, but the more she thought about it, Betty was either going to find out from her, or later on through <em> Heather, </em> so…</p><p>“The research wasn’t for me,” she admitted. “It was for Heather.”</p><p>Betty widened her eyes in confusion. “<em> Heather? </em>”</p><p>“For her speech,” she gingerly said. “I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>“You mean she’s going to mention all of that in front of everyone?” She raised a brow. “That’s not very on brand for her.”</p><p>“I know, and in fairness, I encouraged the idea. But basically, we both know how shallow and meaningless all this has been.” She gestured to the decorated cafeteria. “So we figured, well, let’s try and make some good come out of this.”</p><p>Betty looked unconvinced. “She wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of her heart.” She folded her arms and looked to the ground. “And I don’t know how I feel about her speaking for other people’s groups.”</p><p>Veronica sighed. “She has her reasons, and if I could tell you them, I promise I would. And you’re right… her talking about marginalised groups isn’t all that conventional.” She glanced at the cameras placed around the room. “I did help her with the speech though. Considering she only found out what a trans person was two days ago, it wasn’t too bad the last time I looked over it.”</p><p>“Two days ago?” Betty scoffed. “Well, good luck to her when talking about such serious issues like gay or trans panic and what not.”</p><p>“I read over it, she only covered the baselines,” Veronica explained. “She only has five minutes anyway.”</p><p>Betty gave a grunt. “Yeah, sure, I’ll let her off.”</p><p>“At least she’s using her voice for good for once,” Martha pointed out. “Usually she wouldn’t bat an eye at marginalised groups' cries for help… at best.”</p><p>The way she worded that so bluntly made Veronica shift with discomfort, but she could hardly fault her for it. Oftentimes Veronica would forget that Martha was right, but it was just so difficult to view Heather as anything but a (secretly) caring and defensive person after becoming her girlfriend.</p><p>“That’s what I was hoping,” Veronica murmured, before their conversation was cut off by the sound of Ms Fleming’s voice echoing throughout the whole cafeteria, gradually getting the noise to die down at least a little bit.</p><p>“Uh oh the old bag has a microphone,” Betty grumbled, pointing to the item in her hand.</p><p>“Who in their right mind gave her that?” Veronica huffed, only tuning into her opening speech out of pure curiosity.</p><p>“...Today is an exciting day for us all, as you can tell by the cameras around the room…” She gestured to the camera crew that were huddling around their respective stations. “We’re here to spread a very important cause, and I could not be happier to be involved in this wonderful opportunity. Westerburg is very proud to spread awareness to such an important subject matter, one that affects many of us…”</p><p>As she continued to ramble on meaningless babble, Veronica glanced to her side to see Betty was mouthing every word almost perfectly while reenacting everything with much more melodrama, as though she could easily predict what bullshit she would say next. In fairness, it wasn’t hard to come up with such shallow rambling. </p><p>“Veronica!” Thank God she got distracted, though, because as fucking tedious Ms Fleming <em> already </em> was to listen to, she knew she’d burst out laughing at Betty’s antics if she continued to watch her. She looked to her right and saw Mara shuffling through the crowd, her footing a little awkward.</p><p>“Hey!” she said, catching her hand in her own when she stumbled towards her. “You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I was just looking for you,” Mara said. “I think Heather wants moral support. Well, she worded it like, ‘go find Veronica, I want her to wish me needless luck before I go up there,’ and in her language, that means she wants some comfort.” She glanced at Veronica’s friends. “Don’t tell her I said that.”</p><p>The three of them gave a thumbs up, while Veronica left the wall.</p><p>“I’ll talk later,” she told them. “Though I should definitely go see her before she has to go up for this shit.”</p><p>“Personally I think she’ll be fine, but do as you wish,” Betty said, only to be knocked by JD.</p><p>“Let her give her moral support,” he said.</p><p>“Bye, Veronica!” Martha said.</p><p>“Bye, guys,” she replied, before hurrying back through the crowd, hand in Mara’s hand. As they walked, Veronica couldn’t help but notice the drumming fingers against her knuckles. “Mara, are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” she said at a normal volume, before pulling her a little closer and whispering, “Crowds get me overwhelmed.”</p><p>“But you like parties.”</p><p>“I know, but parties are organised chaos. This is <em> unorganised </em> chaos,” she said, gesturing to the crowd that, while were quieter than before, were still chatting amongst themselves. “It’s a little too much for me, but I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I see.” Veronica nodded. Soon enough they were on the other side of the room, closer to the stage that the school had rolled in at some point this morning. At least it was fairly small. Hanging around the side of it, a little further away from the edge of the crowd, was Chandler and Duke, both huddled a little too close, both looking down at what Veronica presumed were Chandler’s notes.</p><p>“What did Ms Fleming say, anyway?” she heard Duke ask.</p><p>“Oh, she wasn’t too happy about me not writing a mini autobiography, but what is she gonna do about it? Make me write it all again?” Chandler rolled her eyes. At a closer look, Veronica could see her leg was bouncing in place and her nails were scraping up and down the back of her flashcards.</p><p>She’d never admit it, but she was nervous.</p><p>“Hey,” she spoke up, grabbing Chandler’s attention. Her worrisome eyes lit up just a little when she saw her, and she hurried forward, clearly wanting to stand closer to her than she could.</p><p>“‘Ronica, hi,” she said. “Where did you fuck off to?”</p><p>“I was talking to my friends, sorry,” she said. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Fine,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “Perfectly fine.”</p><p>“Do you think you’ll be okay up there?” Veronica asked, eyeing the stage. Heather looked briefly uncertain, before scoffing at her dismissively.</p><p>“It’s five minutes. What can five minutes possibly do?”</p><p>Veronica gave her a smile. “You’re right. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Heather!”</p><p>Oh no, not fine.</p><p>The four of them, all disgruntled by the sound of that voice, turned towards Ms Fleming making her way over to them, specifically Chandler, who’s smile completely dropped.</p><p>“You ready to go on in about ten minutes?” Fleming asked. “The crew are just going to record some things around the cafeteria, maybe ask some students a few questions, and then we should be ready real soon.”</p><p>“Great,” she muttered, so clearly glowering at her. Ms Fleming, however, seemed far too pleased with herself to notice, grinning madly at the camera crew capturing every piece of her hard work.</p><p>“Good to hear! Thanks for offering to do this, Heather,” Fleming said gleefully, before walking off.</p><p>“I didn’t-” She was already gone. “Fuck’s sake. Is she high on all her shifts, or is her memory even worse than mine?” Disgruntled, she sat down on the edge of the stage and stared at her notes, only Veronica could clearly see that her eyes weren’t moving.</p><p>“What TV network even gave her a chance, anyway?” she heard Mara ask from behind her.</p><p>“A very desperate one,” Duke replied. Mara giggled. Veronica, however, came to sit next to Chandler.</p><p>“It’ll all be over after this,” she told her. “Well, mostly. The worst of it will be over.”</p><p>Chandler looked up from her notes, but rather than looking at her, her eyes drifted to the students excitedly swarming to the cameras, hoping to get their fifteen seconds of fame from associating themselves with something that so few of them understood.</p><p>“I know,” Chandler said. “I shouldn't be letting it get to me.”</p><p>Veronica frowned, wondering what on earth she should say to console her, when in reality, she knew that there was nothing positive to say, not until it was over.</p><p>“She’s been a little off all day.”</p><p>Veronica looked up at Duke, who had leaned over to whisper to her. Veronica shot Chandler a concerned look.</p><p>“Do you think she’ll be okay up there?” she asked.</p><p>“If you want my honest answer - no. Let’s just hope she keeps her cool until she’s out of sight, or she won’t let it go.”</p><p>Veronica gazed at Chandler sadly. “I’m sure she will.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure, but the ten minutes flew by quicker than any of them wanted, and no more time could be spent hoping for the best. Now, all Veronica could do is stand to the side, giving Chandler a reassuring smile, along with Mara and Duke, as she stepped up onto the stage. It was a small stage, clearly cheap, and yet it put her above everyone, visible to every pair of eyes in the room. Nowhere to run or hide, only Heather to look at.</p><p>Her leg had stopped bouncing, but Veronica already knew what to look for. She could see it twitch now and then, like she’d forget to keep it still.</p><p>Camera lenses were faced towards her now, though they were currently focused on Ms Fleming standing just in front of the stage, busy giving a brief introduction.</p><p>“...And I am very happy to announce that one of our own pupil’s, Heather Chandler, has offered her voice to anyone who this issue may concern.”</p><p><em> She didn’t offer, </em> Veronica was so desperate to hiss, but she was too far away from the cameras, out of their view. She remained silent, and instead watched as the cameras tilted up towards her. Heather had never looked so tense, but at least students were oblivious. If anything, they just seemed curious. After all, what did Heather possibly have to say about such an important matter?</p><p>The three of them shuffled around to get a better view of her, and from where she stood, she also had somewhat of a view of her friends, who seemed to have moved from their spot by the door. When she looked over, she could see a hint of concern on JD’s expression, something that <em> still </em> completely baffled her.</p><p>No time to focus on him, though. Instead, Veronica stared at Heather as she opened her mouth to begin her speech.</p><p>“Well, thank you for giving me the opportunity to spread awareness for an issue that is <em> clearly </em> tho-”</p><p>Veronica winced as her tongue slipped. So did Heather.</p><p>“-So important to you,” she quickly corrected herself. Luckily, no one seemed to bat an eye. Unfortunately, neither did Ms Fleming at the very obvious sarcasm.</p><p>“That woman is <em> immune </em> to sarcasm,” Duke muttered.</p><p>“Even I can pick up sarcasm better than her,” Mara quipped. “And at least I have a reason. She’s just an airhead.”</p><p>At least that made Veronica snicker to herself. It definitely lightened the mood from the depressing topics Heather immediately jumped into right after.</p><p>And to be fair to her, it was going pretty smoothly at first. She started off with talking about who could be a target of sexual harassment - that being <em> everyone </em>, though she gave more time to types of people who have less awareness shone on them. When she mentioned transgender people on that list, she glanced at Betty out of curiosity, who gave a content shrug. Then when Heather brought up gay trans panic briefly, Betty could be seen murmuring something to Martha, though the lack of agitation told Veronica that Heather hadn’t done anything wrong.</p><p>Things were going so well.</p><p>What could possibly ruin it?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Heather was <em> really </em> trying. She really was. She found that staring at her notes, even when not reading them, was much easier than looking at the crowd. Unfortunately, rule number one of speeches, you <em> always </em> look at the crowd. It’s just the polite thing to do. </p><p>So she did. She tried to make eye contact with the sea of students ogling her, only to accidentally stare right into a camera lens, or even worse, right into one of those bright fucking lights. They’d create such a bold smear on her vision, to the point where she couldn’t read her goddamn notes when looking back down.</p><p>Why couldn’t the microphone be a little further down? It was forcing her to tilt her chin up. Shouldn’t that be a good thing? She was trying to withhold her usual image, after all. Stand up straight and quit grinding your teeth together, you fucking pillowcase.</p><p><em> Stop panicking, </em> she scolded herself as she slid her current flashcard to the back of the pile. <em> You’ll be fine. You’re already halfway through this. </em> She winced as she looked at the clock on the wall. <em> Somehow. </em> She’d hardly been registering the last minute or so that had passed… it was going too slow, and yet way, way too fast.</p><p>At this point she’d moved on from summarising the lesser known groups who suffer from any form of sexual harassment, and onto the list of methods on how that sexual harassment could occur. She cleared her throat.</p><p>“It’s important to recognise what sexual harassment can look like. It has many forms, such as ‘spiking’ one’s drink, also known as drugging-”</p><p>
  <em> SMASH. </em>
</p><p>She flinched. Her speech paused. She looked around in confusion.</p><p>And saw that no one was doing the same.</p><p>
  <em> Did no one else hear that…? </em>
</p><p>She did the one thing she could think of doing, and looked to Veronica, Heather and Heather. The three of them also looked puzzled, but for a different reason than her. She glanced at Mac in particular, who seemed to be signing to her,</p><p>
  <em> “Keep going, Red. You’ll be okay.” </em>
</p><p>She swallowed dryly.</p><p>
  <em> No one else heard that. </em>
</p><p>Too many seconds had passed. She wasn’t sure how many, but far too many for her to just stand there looking fucking clueless in front of everyone. She pushed her confusion aside and kept going.</p><p>“Drugging, groping, not respecting ‘no’ for an answer-”</p><p>
  <em> Why are you being so difficult? </em>
</p><p>Her words trailed off again. She was aware of everyone staring, waiting for her to continue, but for a moment, she couldn’t even remember what she was saying, or where to look to remind herself. For just a moment, nothing felt real, but more so like she was looking at everyone through a glazed pane of glass, distorting her senses so much that she couldn’t feel her nails begin to rip through her-</p><p>
  <em> Flashcards. </em>
</p><p>She forced herself to look down at her hands. Fuck, her nails had stabbed holes into them.</p><p><em> Did anyone notice? </em> She tried to look up, and read someone’s, <em> anyone’s </em> expressions, but her brain physically hurt trying to process anything.</p><p>
  <em> Just keep going. Keep talking. Keep- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Keep making excuses, Heather. This wouldn’t have happened had you not been slutting around- </em>
</p><p>“-And it’s important to recognise that the blame lies with-”</p><p>
  <em> It’s your fault. </em>
</p><p>“-I mean, it <em> doesn’t </em> lie with the victim. It never does.” Her voice shook, she was struggling to talk. She wasn’t even sure if she was talking loud enough, if she was talking into the microphone, but that was hardly her biggest concern right now. All she wanted was to just be <em> okay, </em> so much so she was okay with letting everyone see her reaching into her blazer to grab JD’s stupid necklace in a desperate attempt to stay-</p><p>It’s not there.</p><p>She didn’t have the necklace.</p><p>She…</p><p>She fucking threw it away.</p><p><em> Why did I throw it away? </em> She stared at the crowd she could hardly see, and yet could feel burning into her with their stares. <em> WHY DID I THROW IT AWAY! </em></p><p>She could vaguely hear herself talking, vaguely hear herself reading off her flashcards, making shit up as she went, and yet she focused on none of it. Her brain was going in circles, jumping back and forth between worrying about how fucking helpless she looked on stage right now, and how to make herself stop looking so fucking helpless. The latter was meant to be a skill she’d mastered over the years, but when it felt like she was being swallowed up into things she thought were meant to be over, when she wasn’t sure what was real and what was long gone, it was so, so fucking difficult to just <em> think clearly. </em></p><p><em> Just think, Heather, </em> she tried to make her voice loud and clear, trying to drown out all the other sounds she could hear. <em> How the hell do I get out of this one? I’m on a stage, half the school is looking right at me, at least I think they are, I don’t know, I don’t know, I just don’t know. </em> She wondered how she looked right now. How truly helpless she looked, how fucking weak she probably seemed. Everyone could see it. Everyone. Out of all the states she’d pray and beg God to never let her see her in, and they could all fucking see it. Either she was right about God being made up, or he had some weird vendetta against her.</p><p>She was trying. She really was.</p><p>But it’s hard to act like you’re at the top of the school when a faint aching in your wrist makes you want to cry.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“What’s happening?” Veronica heard Mara whimper. Veronica took a moment to respond, far too distracted by the feeling of dread she felt in watching Chandler stumble with her words, her posture completely collapse, her eyes darting around the room, from the crowd to her notes, as though she wasn’t sure where she should be looking. She looked unbelievably tense, like she was about to fall apart at any moment. She’d seen this before.</p><p>“She’s having a flashback,” she murmured, quiet enough for the faint chatter that had begun to ripple through the cafeteria drowned her voice out, so no one but Heather and Heather could hear. “I… I don’t know what to do. How do I stop it?”</p><p>“What <em> can </em> we do from here?” Duke hissed. “We can’t exactly drag her off stage.”</p><p>“And why not?”</p><p>“Really, Veronica. What’s her worst fear, here?” Duke rolled her eyes. “More than anything, she wants to get through this without fucking up.”</p><p>Veronica groaned internally, gripping her hair and pulling at it nervously. She felt so powerless, she so desperately wanted these five minutes to be over. But they weren’t. Heather had to keep going.</p><p>While she nervously looked around the room, she did catch JD wordlessly walking away from Betty and Martha, who both looked terribly confused as he did, while he simply carried a darkened expression all the way out of the cafeteria. She was still baffled by his behaviour, but she had other things to worry about. Such as-</p><p>“Heather,” the grating voice of Ms Fleming sounded. Wincing, Veronica forced herself to listen in.</p><p>“Hm?” It took a few seconds longer than usual for Heather to respond.</p><p>“I think some students have some questions about what you’ve been saying, if that’s okay.”</p><p>By the look on Heather’s face, it definitely wasn’t okay. No way could she talk to anyone right now and answer coherently. But she pushed through, clearly so desperate to just act normally, like nothing was wrong.</p><p>“Sure they can,” she then added, slowly turning her head to the crowd swarming at her feet. “Who’s first?”</p><p>“Heather,” one student called. “Do I <em> have </em> to ask my girlfriend for consent every time?”</p><p>“Did I stutter before? No shit you do.”</p><p>Okay, that was a good answer, at least.</p><p>“Heather, could you please refrain from bad language?” Fleming warned her.</p><p>“Mhmm.” Heather didn’t look at her. “Who else?”</p><p>“Heather! If my boyfriend’s been drinking but I haven’t, can I still do things with him?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do you have a longer answer, Heather?” Fleming asked, which made Veronica snarl. “I’m sure they’d love an explanation.”</p><p>“I don’t… there’s little to explain. The answer… I said no.” She still seemed awfully dazed. “Next question…”</p><p>As she continued to answer what were essentially very concerning questions, Veronica could only watch as Heather grew even more distant. More than anything she wanted to hold her hand and hold it tight until she felt okay, but she knew she couldn’t. Pulling her off now would cause endless weeks of gossip, endless speculation as to why Heather couldn’t handle the heat, when usually this type of thing was her forte.</p><p>That’s the last thing Heather wanted.</p><p>Veronica was about to get a very, very blunt reminder of that.</p><p>“Heather,” someone called. “About the trans panic stuff you mentioned earlier, don’t you think someone should tell the person they’re hooking up with what they have going on before going through with it? Wouldn’t that stop all those problems you mentioned?”</p><p>“I… Uh... “ She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, but murder doesn’t seem like a good response to anything.” She was clearly trying to be sarcastic, but her voice was nowhere near as bold as it could have been. “Shut up and sit down.”</p><p>“Why’d you bring it up, anyway?” someone else asked. “It’s not like any of us are trans.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s such a small group to talk about, I don’t get it,” another said.</p><p>“Hey, Heather, why is this issue so important to you?”</p><p>“Heather, you doing okay? You seem a little off.”</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>“Heather, do you think-”</p><p>“Heather, are you-”</p><p>“Heather-”</p><p>“Heather-”</p><p>“Heather-”</p><p>“Just because it’s small doesn’t mean there’s no one in this school it couldn’t apply to.”</p><p>The crowd fell a little quiet, while in Heather’s eyes, through all the fog, Veronica saw something lighten them up ever so slightly. An idea, if you will.</p><p>“Going… going back to the last question,” Heather muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re acting as though there’s no trans people in this school. How about you go find them rather than bombarding me with all these questions, huh?”</p><p>Veronica’s heart dropped.</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>The crowd grew loud again.</p><p>“What? There are?”</p><p>“Who? Do you know them?”</p><p>“Oh my God you <em> have </em> to tell us.”</p><p>Covering her mouth, struck with horror, Veronica hoped and prayed that Heather wouldn’t answer to them.</p><p>But no. She just had to open her fucking mouth.</p><p>“Not naming names, but hey, don’t look at me. Look a bit further down the food chain, would you?”</p><p>Veronica could not describe the emotion she was feeling. All she knew is that it was horribly unpleasant, churning her stomach and making her want to vomit. She dared to look back over to Betty, still standing only with Martha, and saw that her usual chilled and confident demeanour had completely vanished. She was now pinning herself against the wall, eyes wide with terror and completely frozen. She managed to look down at Martha, who, similarly to Veronica, had a hand over her mouth, up until she locked eyes with Veronica.</p><p>Veronica was too far away to say anything, and she was far too scared to take her hands away from her mouth just in case her anxiety <em> did </em> cause her to throw up, all she could really offer was the most apologetic, scared look that she could muster. She held Martha’s gaze for a little while longer, before Martha broke away and looked back to Betty, grabbed her hand and pulled her away, presumably out of the cafeteria. Veronica wanted to follow, but found her feet was stuck to the floor where she stood. Not knowing where else to look, she simply glanced at Heather and Heather to see if her feelings were shared at all.</p><p>Surprisingly, they too looked uneasy. Her eyes fell on Duke’s, whose expression was a little more unreadable, but her gaze didn’t leave Chandler. She looked conflicted, and she had one foot stepping forward, as though she was about to move from her spot before stopping herself. Mara just seemed stunned. Probably not fucking horrified, because she, nor her best friends were put in a dangerous spotlight. Nameless, sure, but so, incredibly fucking aimed.</p><p>She finally looked back at Chandler. The topic had yet to change, with this newfound information having been a chunk of meat for a load of starving predators to devour eagerly. Of course they’d eat it without question - it had come from Heather Chandler. Veronica had to listen in, whether she wanted to or not was irrelevant, she had to listen to the questions that kept coming.</p><p>“Are there many of them?” someone asked.</p><p>“No.” Chandler would only occasionally respond. While she didn’t look so tense, she still looked… panicked. Veronica could care less about picking apart her emotions right now, however, instead feeling herself grow overwhelmed with anxiety as she listened to the questions continue.</p><p>“Do <em> I </em> know them?” someone else asked.</p><p>“How would I know? Who even are you?” Chandler grumbled.</p><p>“Is it obvious?”</p><p>“Do you know them?”</p><p>“Is that why you brought it up?”</p><p>So many questions in so little time, so much curiosity that was doomed to morph into weeks and weeks and weeks of gossip, so many thoughts that made Veronica feel sick. Her thoughts continued to race, swirling around in her head until they were louder than the students trying to squeeze information out of Heather, she couldn’t possibly think of a way out, all she could think was that her friends had been sentenced to death, that this was it, that Heather had just-</p><p>“She’s talking about me.”</p><p>Veronica looked up in dismay.</p><p>
  <em> Dear diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh my God, what have you done? </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bleeding Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“She’s talking about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes turned towards Heather, and she felt every single one burn into her skin. No matter how much it hurt, though, she remained on the stage. She stared right at Chandler, who looked incredibly shocked to see her standing there, and still incredibly dazed. As she walked past her, she whispered,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just go. Give me the notes, and go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler didn’t argue. She just silently handed her the flashcards and left the stage, very few people bothering to watch her flee the scene, far too interested in the new revelation she had hand-fed them. Swallowing down her nerves as best she could, Duke began to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that’s enough questions for now. We still haven’t finished.” She knew her voice was quivering, she knew this was fucking insane, but she kept her posture calm, staring at the flashcards and trying to read the rest of the speech, in spite of the shreds that Chandler’s nails had stabbed in the middle of some of the sentences.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather? I didn’t think you were speaking,” Ms Fleming said hesitantly, glancing at the cameras pointed at the stage nervously. Duke huffed dismissively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, uh, thought it would be better if someone, such as myself, spoke for a group she wasn’t a part of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” someone called in dismay. She didn’t know who, so she just rolled her eyes at the whole crowd, knowing they likely shared the same train of thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m quite obviously a girl, dickhead,” she snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, please refrain from-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moving on!” she very eagerly cut Ms Fleming off, not only out of spite, but also to just get all of this over with. “Yeah, as someone who was assigned male at birth, I’ve had some pretty interested experiences with sexual harassment.” She would have loved to get specific, to eye any familiar faces in the crowd that may have crossed her path in the past, but with how everyone was gawking at her with disbelief, she could hardly bring herself to. “I, um…” She read over the notes again. “I think it’s important that we recognise marginalised groups’ experiences, because if we don’t, then the victims will-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have a dick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather snapped her head to the general direction of where that voice may have come from, only to be reminded of just how many people were looking at her. No, she didn’t find who said it. All she got was a loud roar of laughter. She gritted her teeth together, trying to come up with a response. Each time she tried to speak, though, her voice would be drowned out by more comments, more laughter, more </span>
  <em>
    <span>humiliation.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just to get at least a moment’s comfort, she looked back to Veronica and Emmy. At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t laughing at her demise, but they certainly look terrified for her. She could hardly blame them either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was really, really scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But acting scared does nothing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If they see they’ve gotten to me, they’ve won. It’s all over.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, she forced down the fear she felt, concealing it for the time being, and instead grabbing the microphone and standing right on the edge of the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she yelled, the audio distorting into a harsh, high-pitched noise that made everyone cringe. Everyone but her; that was by far the most pleasant thing she’d heard all day. She opened her mouth to speak, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> finding an opportunity to make her voice be heard, only when she finally spoke, the microphone picked up nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could even think to check if it was still on, a loud buzz sounded throughout the room, before it went dark. All the lights fizzed out, the audio switched off, the cameras no longer on. Confused mutters rippled through the room, the loudest voice being Ms Fleming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um… uh, it appears we have technical difficulties?” She looked up at the lights with concern. “Like… a power-outage? We’ll be back shortly-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ma’am, if there’s a power outage, the cameras aren’t recording,” one of the cameramen called.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, right,” she replied, trying to hurry through the crowd towards the nearest camera. Meanwhile, the students went wild, the volume levels raising and the crowd itself bustling around the cafeteria. Duke was just astounded, wondering what fucking God she pleased enough to allow them to give her a fucking break. Maybe too little too late, but thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t have to continue, at least for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather!” Emmy’s voice dragged her attention away from the crowd. “Heather, come on, we need to get out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked to Emmy who had leaped onto the stage and grabbed her arm, not giving her a chance to respond before dragging her away. Veronica waited for them at the bottom, before the trio ran off together, and as much as Heather’s heart was racing, the mortified look on Veronica’s face got her incredibly concerned. As soon as they slipped out of the cafeteria, somehow unnoticed (she thanked the low lighting - good thing the cafeteria windows were too dirty to let much light in), she placed a hand on her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” she said softly, making her stop in her tracks. “Go find your friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica stared back at her, eyes round with fear. “But… but what about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. I’m a Heather, aren’t I?” Her voice shook a little when she said that. “Don’t worry about me. Go find them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica clearly tried to muster up a thankful smile, but her lip quivered too much for her lip to curl up even a little. She instead quickly embraced her, and before running off, whispered,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty?” Veronica ran down the steps to the main entrance of the school. The cold fresh air was admittedly a much better feeling to the choking heat from the crowd in the cafeteria, but her own well-being was amongst the least of her concerns right now. She instead ran across the grass, having spotted the familiar figures of her friends hanging around near a railing beside the road. “Betty!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty finally turned around to look at her. Veronica didn’t know what was coming, whether Betty would be angry, upset, scared, or what. No matter what she felt, though, Veronica just couldn’t stop herself from throwing herself onto her, clinging onto her with shaking hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God, oh my God I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Betty, I-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s voice was calm, but far </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> calm. Her brashness had left, replaced with a sense of defeat. It was then that the thought occurred to Veronica that maybe she didn’t want Veronica to hold her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!” she exclaimed, jumping off of her. “I’m sorry, I-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, stop apologising.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want an apology from you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica finally closed her mouth and simply stared at her. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression was grim, her hands were tucked in her pockets. She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t boiling with anger… she just looked exhausted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t your fault, Ronnie,” Betty said calmly. “It’s okay. It’s-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not okay,” Veronica growled. “I… I didn’t think she would do that. I didn’t realise she’d-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I had known she would, I wouldn’t have-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Veronica.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica wasn’t sure what else to say. She simply stood there, wishing she had the words to fix this, wishing that she could say something to make her feel better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather outed herself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Betty and Martha looked at her, alarmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Martha said. “You mean… which Heather?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica stared at the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duke.” She swallowed dryly. God, her mouth was so dry. “She… she outed herself as trans. Everyone knows. Anyone who doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>will.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do. This is all such a mess, I…” She looked back up at them both guiltily. “I never thought this would happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She saw Betty and Martha exchange a look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she questioned. Biting her lip, Betty said quietly,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you didn’t think this would happen, Veronica,” she murmured. “But… I don’t really know why you’re surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just…” Martha rubbed the back of her neck, averting her gaze sheepishly. “We all knew something was wrong with Heather up there. It’s not that much of a shock that she’d…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just Heather’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Veronica,” Betty said bluntly. Strangely, though, her voice was soft, like she’d lost all her fire. “This isn’t anything new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing those words felt like several needles stabbing Veronica in the chest at once, but rather than pulling them out, she let them sit there, not caring about the pain, and more caring about why they were there to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t your fault, Veronica,” Betty said. “I… I’m glad you came to see us, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I did! Why wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martha twiddled her thumbs. “We… kinda thought you’d wanna go and see Heather instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s face twisted in anguish. “No! She just… she put you in danger! You and JD, and Heather, and God knows who else the school may target.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She always does that, Veronica,” Betty told her. “It just so happens that this time… </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> got hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica let those needles sink right in. She didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> them to, but who the hell cares what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants?</span>
  </em>
  <span> At this point, she might as well let the blood pour out. Maybe it would make up for the thousands of other needles that Heather had thrown elsewhere. Where exactly, she’d never know, because at some point, ever since saying yes to being her girlfriend, she’d gained a really bad fucking case of tunnel vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other end of the tunnel was Heather. That’s all she could ever see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay?” she asked weakly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… I mean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as much as I hate to admit it, I’m very scared to go back into that building,” Betty said, looking at the school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I just mean…” She stepped forward and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You should just go home. Your parents will understand. Just go home and… just escape for a bit, I guess.” She gave her the most meaningful gaze she could offer. “I’ll come and see you after school, if you want me. Just… I don’t want you to get hurt any more by going back in there.” She nodded to the school. “If you need an absence note, just ask me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty gave her an exhausted, yet grateful smile. She squeezed her hand back, and slowly nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I want to see you. You know I don’t blame you for this, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica bit her quivering lip, trying to contain herself. “I know you don’t, but it’s hard to not… not feel like you should.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, you weren’t the one who said anything on that stage,” Martha reassured her, holding her other hand. “We don’t blame you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica shakily nodded. “I’m… I’m very glad to hear that.” She let go of both their hands. “You should go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We would if we had a ride home,” Betty said. “But JD kinda ran off during that, we have no idea where he went.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s been acting off lately,” Martha said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to go and find him?” Veronica offered. Betty opened her mouth, looking like she was about to accept her offer, before her attention got side tracked. She looked off into the distance, and before Veronica could follow her gaze, she heard a low rumbling growing louder and louder and it grew closer. Sure enough, JD came into view, stopping his motorcycle on the side of the road, next to the group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna ditch?” he asked, as if he already knew what they were about to request. Betty and Martha blinked at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the hell did you disappear to?” Betty shot back. “First you leave the cafeteria without a word, then we see you walking </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span> without a word. What gives?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. Now hop on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giving up on asking him any more questions, Betty climbed onto the seat behind JD, while Martha settled in the sidecar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coming?” JD asked Veronica, who hesitantly stepped away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll… I’ll see you later,” she said. “I have something I need to do first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. See you,” JD said, before starting up his engine again and zooming down the road, soon out of sight. A foul smelling smoke was left behind, making Veronica cough and quickly stumble away as to not risk getting an asthma attack on top of all the shit that had happened today. Taking a moment to gather her emotions as best as she could, she finally looked back at the school, inhaled deeply, and marched forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was going to find Heather.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, it’s fine, it’s over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler could hear Mac loud and clear. Without the noise and the stares, she had finally been able to bring herself back almost entirely. Even just standing still, leaning against the wall of the closet, however, she had yet to feel her energy return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, please talk to us,” Mac spoke again. Chandler couldn’t bring herself to look up at either of them, though. While she appreciated Heather and Heather following her to the closet, she had very little to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door unexpectedly swinging open certainly didn’t help. Chandler stumbled back from it in surprise, though seeing Veronica suddenly standing in front of her, closing the door behind her, brought a shred of joy to her heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Ronica, you’re here-” she stepped forward, reaching out towards her, expecting some form of comfort. That expectation, however, was picked up and smashed into pieces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>damage,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Heather?” Veronica yelled, staring at her with the most enraged, the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> expression she had ever seen from her. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d seen this before, but it had been so long ago, she’d long forgotten about it. Pushed it down. What was the point in remembering those times that Veronica despised her, after all?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Chandler blinked at her in surprise. “What are you-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have you done, Heather?” Veronica said. Her volume dropped, but the anger in her tone was very much audible. When she stepped closer to her, Chandler stepped back, unsure if she wanted to face whatever had gotten Veronica so upset.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I... “ She swallowed. She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretend</span>
  </em>
  <span> to not know why Veronica was upset, but she knew. She’d known ever since she’d seen the horrified look on her face back on stage. “Don’t appreciate being yelled at after all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s gaze darkened. “Of course you don’t, because all you care about is </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Despite her words, she did lower her voice, and let out a sigh. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather was a little confused by the mismatch with her words and her tone. She was so obviously angry, and yet she was concerned nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m better. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear.” Veronica glowered at her. “You know who can’t say the same?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Heather!” Her voice raised again. Usually, Heather could handle people raising their voices at her, because she could do the same, and only ever be more intimidating when doing so. But now… now she didn’t want to be more intimidating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t a game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” Veronica said, her volume falling again. She heard a slight quiver in her voice. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> you with that information, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you wouldn’t tell anyone.” She gazed at her with glassy eyes. “Why did you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather stared at the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically I didn’t tell anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t name them.” She folded her arms. “So what’s the problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t act like you don’t know, Heather!” Veronica barked, making her flinch. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you’re capable of. I’ve been on the receiving end of it, you and I both know just how much power you have.” Veronica stood dangerously close to her, basically forcing Heather to look her in the eye. “You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you’ve done. Don’t try and lie and say that you don’t.” Her brown eyes burned into Heather’s skull. “You don’t have to name anyone to target them. You just get the ball rolling in a general direction, and then it crushes anything in its path.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, go easy on her.” Mac spoke up again. Veronica whipped her head towards her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I have a right to be angry, Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not saying you don’t!” Mac said. “But… she didn’t know what she was doing. You saw her up there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather held back a regretful wince as she saw Veronica’s expression soften. She winced at how for a moment, she considered using her compassion to her advantage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather blinked at Veronica.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… you’re looking at me as though you knew what you were doing.” Veronica’s anger returned in her gaze, along with a hint of betrayal. That’s what stung the most. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather opened her mouth, about to deny it, but the guilt she felt held her back from telling yet another lie to save herself. She closed her mouth again, and that’s all Veronica needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you,” she growled. Heather forced herself to glare at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Veronica,” she muttered. Her voice wasn’t anywhere near as powerful as she wanted it to be. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica fell silent. Her silence, along with Heather and Heather’s, who were both simply staring at the pair of them wordlessly, was deafening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Veronica eventually murmured. “I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather opened her mouth to retort, but Veronica wasn’t finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>do,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Heather. You’re willing to throw anyone under the bus, no matter who they are, whether or not they deserve it, you don’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>care.</span>
  </em>
  <span> All you care about is </span>
  <em>
    <span>YOURSELF!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather flinched at her raising her voice to the point where it broke. Not because it was so loud, but because she had tears threatening to fall. Heather desperately wanted to wipe them away, to fix her eyeliner and pretend nothing was wrong, but she knew doing so would be a horrible mistake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” she tried to argue. “I care about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, that only seemed to upset Veronica more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do. You care about me, you care about Heather and you care about Heather. I know that. I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.” She sniffed. “I was so fascinated by it. So fascinated by you being a good person, that I completely forgot to look for what makes you such a mythic bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A label Heather usually wore with pride somehow pained her to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I thought you were a good person, Heather, but as it turns out, you just dragged me down with you,” Veronica stammered. “You haven’t become better, I’ve just become </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her hands were shaking. Heather wanted to hold them. “I thought I could trust you to be good. I thought you </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be good. But I know now that was stupid of me, because I didn’t think to look at just how many people you hurt, so of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was surprised when you hurt the people who I care about.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m just like you. I’m selfish. I only care about myself, I only care about those close to me, or I would have known all of this so, so much sooner. I would have let myself look at all of you, not just the part of you that cares for me.” Her tears finally began to fall. “I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>coward.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather stared at her helplessly. “‘Ronica-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Ronica</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, Heather,” Veronica snapped, stepping away from her. Her mouth was twitching as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. When Heather tried to look at Mac and Duke for some sort of condolence, she was met with averted eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to feel like a bad person for loving you, Heather,” Veronica spoke again in a raspy voice. “But I want to be a good person. I really do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The defeat in her tone made her anxious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What… what do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica strained to look back up at her, tears still falling down her face as she opened her mouth again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry all of this happened, I really, really wish it didn’t.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have wanted it to happen to me either, and I’m so, so sorry that you were thrown in a position you didn’t want to be in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I just can’t bear to talk to you right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather’s stomach clenched with dread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you trying to say-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica squeezed her eyes shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be a good person, Heather,” she breathed. “But I can’t do that when I’m with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she turned away. She turned, and she walked away, towards the door. As if making up for how unreal everything had felt before, reality hit Heather in the chest to the point where she became sore, and she desperately stumbled forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, no-” she tried to say as the door opened. “Wait, no, don’t do this, Veronica-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door shut, leaving her behind. She slammed against it, her hands curled into fists as she hit the wood repeatedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, Veronica, you can’t-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her throat began to ache. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t just leave me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Veronica could hear her from the other side, she made no implication of it. She was met with silence. The weight of the situation fell on her shoulders, and she could hardly bring herself to lift herself up from the door. Her head pressed against the wood, she stared at the swirling patterns in front of her eyes, trying to process everything happening. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Mac move from her spot in the closet until she too was by the door. She slowly turned to her, expecting her, out of anyone at all, to lend a hand or to offer some sort of embrace, but that isn’t what she got.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, she watched as her hand landed on the doorknob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M-Mac,” she spluttered in disbelief. “What are you… where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac gazed up at her with apologetic, glassy eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I need to make sure Veronica’s okay,” she murmured, tearing her gaze away. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened, and Mac left. Heather didn’t try to chase after her, far too stunned to even process that she was gone. She stood in complete silence for many seconds. Maybe even minutes, she could hardly tell. Time didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was that she was alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except she wasn’t, she remembered. Slowly, she turned her head towards the only other person in the closet with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what,” she said in a low voice. “Are you going to leave too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke stared at her blankly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” She spun around to glare at her. “Out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’d expect </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be the first one to go!” She didn’t mean to raise her voice. She really didn’t. She let out a shaky sigh. “I… I wouldn’t blame you, is what I’m saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke tilted her head at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving,” she said softly. “Unless you need me to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather grew quiet. Too much was happening, too much had already happened. She couldn’t bear anything else to happen, she didn’t want to try and comprehend anything else, whether it be good or bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to be alone right now,” she eventually said, her voice hardly audible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Duke said with a nod. “If you need me, I’m here. Not in the closet… both figuratively and literally… but you know what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather didn’t reply. She simply waited until Duke left, gently closing the door behind her when she did. Once alone, Heather fully expected herself to begin bawling. She expected tears to flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, she expected black streaks to smudge along her face, she expected the whole fucking school to hear her cries. But nothing of the sort happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood there in silence, leaning against the door, taking in the emptiness of the very cluttered closet she had hidden away in. With no voices to distract her, not even her inner voice, she could hear the school. She could hear faint chatter, faint gossip, faint laughter. It was all so far away from her. She’d dodged a fatal bullet, and as a result, let it hit whoever was behind her. As usual, she hadn’t cared to check who had been standing there, because she never had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No… that was a lie, and she knew it. She knew who was standing behind her, and she hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was willing to become complacent in the hurt of others. Willing to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>part</span>
  </em>
  <span> in hurting others, because that’s just who she was. What else was she meant to do, though? It was cruel, she knew, but it was that, or she’d be shot in the heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slammed the back of her head against the door. All of this was too much. She couldn’t think about all of this now, she just couldn’t. But it was hard not to. Right now, she had no one but herself to talk to, and no one but herself to blame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted peace, wanted quiet, but not like this. Not in a cluttered, yet such an empty closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the door and left, staring at the floor as she walked through the hallways. She didn’t bother keeping her usual posture, didn’t bother to tilt her head above anyone who she walked past, didn’t bother to glare at anyone who whispered about her. She was on autopilot. She just went to her locker, grabbed her bag, and made her way towards the exit. No, school wasn’t over yet, but as if she cared. Like Veronica said, the only person she cared about was herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the midst of drowning in her own guilt, however, the last voice she wanted to hear sounded from behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped. She didn’t turn around. She continued to stare at the floor. If looks could kill, the floor would be melting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seemed a little off on stage before,” Ms Fleming said. She could tell she had stopped behind her. A little too close. She could see her shadow. “I brought you on there because I know you’re good at public speaking! Was everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather continued to stare at the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You did this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you saw, but there was a power outage in the cafeteria. Turns out someone turned the power off and messed the whole system up, but by the time we got it all switched back on, you were gone!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fists clenched. Her emotions returned, and they returned strong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You fucking did this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So today was a bit of a disaster, but at least the crew got some footage. I’m sure we can make up for it tomorrow, and it’ll all be fine. Nothing to worry about!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>None of this is fine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And any blunders you’ve made today I’m sure won’t matter by tomorrow. But just so you know-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fist began to shake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-You did really well today, Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather wasn’t thinking when she swung.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She just let her emotions get the best of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica didn’t stop when she heard Heather’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, wait!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only when she reached the wall that surrounded the parking lot did Veronica finally stop. She keeled over, catching herself with her hands, but with how shaky they were, she could hardly hold herself up. Her breaths quivered as they left her lips, and her stomach hadn’t stopped churning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica.” Mara’s voice was softer now, as she’d finally caught up to her. She knew she was standing next to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t wanna do it, Heather,” she whimpered, trying to hold in her cries. “I didn’t want to leave her, I don’t want to do this to her, I just- I can’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica, stop talking, okay?” Mara soothed, stepping closer to her. Veronica finally looked up with tearful eyes. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I’m fine, I-” She cradled her stomach. It was still aching. “I just… I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara said nothing, just held out her arms as an offering. Veronica immediately took it, falling onto her shoulder and letting herself sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do, Mara, I really don’t know what to do, I just want everything to be okay but it just can’t be okay and I can’t keep pretending it’s okay, and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop talking, please,” Mara hushed, running her hand up and down her back. “You’re making yourself worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica just whimpered into her neck, knowing she was right. The more she spoke, the more bile she felt swirl around her stomach. She instead helplessly clung onto her, desperately trying to swallow down the stomach acid invading her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“F-fuck,” she gagged, both from the sensation and from pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pushing Mara aside and stumbling away from her. Before Heather could ask what was wrong, Veronica hunched over, nails digging into her stomach, and vomit climbed up her throat and splattered onto the concrete. She vaguely registered hands brushing her brown locks out of her face as she coughed and gagged, not stopping until she was sure there was nothing left to throw up. She spat a few times, making sure all puke was out of her mouth, but even then, it still left a foul taste behind. Even after the feeling had passed and the worst was over, her body still shook uncontrollably. It had been a long, long time since she had vomited (sober), and the intense anxiety had never gone away, and really didn’t help with the anxiety she already felt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica! Are you okay? Are you ill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Veronica slowly picked herself up, trying to distract herself from the awful experience she had just had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just… anxiety.” She muttered, curling in on herself. “Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to worry about it! You were just sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica chewed on her lip, picking off stray skin, not caring if she did it too harshly or if her lip began to bleed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just…” She covered her mouth, now to stop herself from talking. The thought of vomiting again scared her, even if she knew chances of it happening were slim. Her hand was still trembling. “You don’t have to come with me, Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara frowned at her. “I know I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get in the way of you two,” she muttered. “Not again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not.” Heather took hold of her hand. “You think I’m not hurt for you? Because I am.” She gazed at her sadly. “You did the right thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica huffed disdainfully. “That makes a start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cutting of their conversation was the familiar rumbling of a motorcycle. Confused and still hazy, Veronica looked around the parking lot to see JD, sitting alone on his motorcycle, slowly moving towards them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this a bad time?” he asked, obviously noticing Veronica’s dreadful state.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Veronica muttered, still cradling her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica shook her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just take me to Betty’s,” she told him. “This isn’t about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>JD frowned at her. “You look pale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I just vomited,” she muttered, shakily climbing over the wall, depending on Mara holding her up for balance. “Can I just sit in the sidecar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Please don’t puke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have nothing left in me,” she grumbled, settling in the cramped sidecar seat. When they didn’t move for a moment, Veronica looked up to see JD staring at Mara patiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara blinked at him in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to Betty’s. I doubt she wants to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? What did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… a Heather?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>JD shrugged. “You didn’t do anything wrong today,” he said. “Hop on. If you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As sick as Veronica felt, and as much she wanted to crawl into a hole and let herself lie there for hours and hours until she felt numb, she’d be lying if she said Mara being able to come along with them didn’t make her feel a tad better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That slight good mood was ruined, though, when the motorcycle began to move past the school. Not because she felt like she needed to puke again, though granted, that feeling still hadn’t gone away, but because it hurt to even look at the building. Far too much had happened for her anxiety to handle, and far too much hurt had happened for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara’s words lingered in her head as they drove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You did the right thing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It should have made her feel better. But it didn’t. Even if she truly believed it, she couldn’t convince herself that she was any better of a person. How could she, when all she could think about was being with Heather Chandler again?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t get her diary out on such a bumpy ride, especially when the whole journey she was slumped over by sheer exhaustion. In her head, though, she’d already figured out her last diary entry for today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear diary,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t believe I’m a good person.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry. it got worse.</p>
<p>https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>um</p>
<p>sorry</p>
<p>the next chapter's even more sad. that'll be coming tomorrow. stay tuned ???</p>
<p>feel free to yell at me in the comments</p>
<p>https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>